Most People
by Cardgamesonmotorcycles
Summary: Most people didn't start the day with a line of coke and a cigarette or four. But Sly Blue wasn't most people. (Still no tag for Sly?)


What do most people do when they first wake up? Silence the buzzing of the alarm clock, go to the toilet, jump into a warm shower?

Most people didn't start the day with a line of coke and a cigarette or four. Most people started the day in their own bed most of the time, or at least in the bed of a long-term partner.

Most people didn't start the day wearing clothes stinking of smoke, alcohol and sex. Most people could remember what had happened the night before with 100% certainty.

Most people didn't wake up to fifteen missed calls and seven messages from their worried family, not every day at least.

And, he imagined, most people didn't wake up only to realise that their shirt was missing and as a result, be forced to walk home in a hoodie.

But Sly Blue wasn't most people.

How he came to be walking through the streets and alleyways of Midorijima, stinking of sweat and sex, with no shirt and a nose dusted with white powder, he didn't remember.

He'd gone to Mizuki's bar, he knew that much, he had a clotted cut on his upper arm as a reminder. He smirked darkly as he remembered the stupid bastard who'd tried to mess with him, drawn a knife and decided to 'teach him a lesson.' As Sly faintly recalled, it had been him who did the teaching, slicing the man's face up with his own knife, taken from his hand as easily as you might take candy from a baby. Not that Sly had done that, much.

The night had progressed as usual from then, he'd hung around the bar until it shut, when he'd continued to get drunk with Mizuki. They'd shot some heroin, that was when his mind blanked, but they probably fucked, they usually did.

He assumed he'd gone to some shitty club, done some coke or E's in the toilet, probably drank even more and, by the state of his knuckles, started a fight and probably gotten kicked out. That was how his nights usually went, anyway.

He would've picked his partner for the night without using any specific techniques, if someone vaguely attractive grabbed him and started making out with him, he was theirs to do with as they wanted.

But as to the name of the person he woke up next to, always a man, he had no idea.

He decided he didn't care, he'd never see them again anyway. he made it a rule to never give out his number, or to accept other people's. He also tried to never go home with the same guy twice, though sometimes, if someone was a good enough fuck he'd make an exception.

He knew he was getting odd looks from the people around him as he casually strolled home, un-zipped hoodie flapping in the wind and exposing his chest, probably coated in a light layer of crusted cum. He didn't really care that people were staring at the scratched that raked down his front. He had his headphones on, he had a packet of cigarettes in his pocket and one in between his lips, that was all he cared about.

His trusty, if not slightly serious allmate was trotting along at his side, occasionally making comments about his health that he ignored.

His neck throbbed where it had been bitten and tormented until it had bled, trails of red leaking down his neck and over his collar bones.

Finally, one packet of cigarettes later, he reached his house, flinging open the door to see the disgusted expression of the old woman, and the concerned expression of his brother

"What?, he asked coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette and shooting the old woman a smug smirk when she wrinkled her nose. "Got any food?"

This he directed at his brother, who immediately went into the fridge and retrieved a tub of noodles, no doubt yesterdays tea, which he had, as usual, missed.

"You're bleeding." The soft voice spoke from beside him as it put the noodles in the microwave. "What happened?"

He shrugged casually, "some fucker pulled a knife on me."

Most people didn't start their day eating microwaved leftovers while their brother stitched their arm up and their Grandma watched with clear contempt as they smoked another packet of cigarettes.

But Sly Blue wasn't most people.


End file.
